Tuesday, December 4, 2012

7 months!!!

Bonus shot - mechanic hands!

Well finally - FINALLY - my computer's wi-fi worked long enough for me to upload these dang things. I've been trying since forever when James actually turned 7 months old. Can we take a moment to shake our heads at newfangled technology that will just never ever work right uphill both ways in the snow all year long? And how. But it's neither here nor there since uploaded they are and God is good and let's move on and talk about my baby.This month James Wade is just a bigger, shaggier, louder, stronger, rounder, more mobile version of his younger selves. He still looks like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man and he still likes to eat his feet (just from a different angle). He still holds my hands when he breastfeeds/cuddles/pretty much anything else. In his short 7 1/2 months of life he already knows that fingers make the best teething toys, shoes are the best distraction in the world (unless it's sacrament meeting and then up is down and the universe doesn't play by normal rules), and family spitting parties first thing in the morning when we're all still in bed are the like the bee's knees, only far more exciting. Seriously, you haven't lived until you've experienced an early morning family spitting party. James can teach you how to do it: with your tongue out, it's the only way.James Wade enjoys: rolling ALL over the living room floor, holding his breath until he squeaks, having his feet and armpits tickled, cheerios, laying down during baths and kicking his feet so mom gets all wet, smiling at whoever sits behind us in church, crying when there's too many people around, crying when anyone wearing a hat or a beard are around, and getting himself into all manner of strange positions during naps.

James Wade hates: putting his arms into sleeves, not being allowed to chew
on diapers, not being allowed to chew on highchair strap buckles during lunch,
being cold after baths, having to fall asleep by himself about every 3rd nap,
and hitting his head on hard things.

He usually sleeps through the night right after I say he doesn't, and stops
right after I say he does. He thinks mom is WAY funnier than dad
(citation needed). He has two whole teeth. He eats all manner of
fruits and vegetables, and his first Thanksgiving was a success because he and
Mashed Potatoes met and are friends. He can make your heart melt right
out of your chest if he falls asleep on you, and I recommend letting him suck
on your face when the mood strikes him because the window of it being cute and
not creepy for someone to suck on your face is extremely narrow.

As for me, I'm getting much better at not crying when he outgrows a clothing
size, or when I look at his newborn pictures. Actually, his newborn
pictures are even sweeter now that I know something of his personality.
Being a mom feels like slowly opening a really fantastic present - so slow that
I still don't know what it all is yet. It's also a little like being in a
horror movie, because of all the fear and worrying I have to force myself to
not indulge. I mean, you don't realize how thin a barrier bedroom walls
are between the safety of your home and the evilness of the outside world until
your most precious thing is sleeping all the way in the next room. I
mean, I know the whole world isn't evil and that it's just a mom thing
to worry, but I've never felt so very vulnerable before. Being a mom is
the very definition of taking the bad with the good.

So anyway. That's the boy this month. I apologize for not being
a better blogger and actually writing more posts. I actually think of
things that I want to write about all the time, but it always seems that when I
do have a moment there's always something else I'd rather do instead, even if it's
just be on the couch and do nothing. Can I get an amen for doing
nothing! I'm still planning a blog design overhaul (Rachael, I'm a bad
client) and my hope is that maybe a well-designed space will make me want to
use it more. It's a nice theory, anyway.